All My Strength (5) (The Mile High Club) Read online

  Wendy had three more days before she needed to call work. That small reminder cracked her feeling of calm, not shattering it entirely, but with enough of a nagging thought that she wished she could forget, like a child enjoying summer in the moment.

  It was late in the morning when Carson finally joined Wendy outside. He wore a t-shirt and shorts. He was deliciously handsome with warm brown eyes that crinkled in the corners. Wendy was attracted to Carson. There was no question or doubt in her mind. But they had only had two dates, if you count the plane ride, which she did not but Carson did. She would just have to go on ten dates with him and see if she still liked him by the end.

  “What would you like to do today?” Wendy asked. She had no idea what a guy like Carson would do with free time.

  “I found a bunch of board games in the top of the hall closet. Do you want to try some of them?”

  Carson was thirty-five years old. His Christmas memories were of playing games with his siblings. When he grew up and moved out, there was no longer anyone to play with.

  “Do you want to play now?” Wendy asked.

  “Sure. How about a wager? Loser cooks tonight?” He held his good hand out to Wendy to help her out of the patio chair.

  She took his hand graciously, a wide grin on her face. Secretly, Wendy thought she should be helping him up. She said, “If we play more than one game, the loser of the most games will cook and do dishes.”

  “You sound confident,” Carson said, pushing open the screen door and standing aside so that Wendy could go through ahead of him. Her hand brushed his and she felt a thrill as she crossed the threshold. It was like being a teenager again.

  “I’ll lend you my apron. It’s one-size fits all,” Wendy joked.

  Most of the games required more than two players, but they found cribbage, Mastermind, Stratego, and chess.

  Carson was hopeless. During Mastermind, one player hid a bunch of colored pegs and then gave clues about the pegs based on whether they were the correct color and in the correct position by putting black and white pegs in a small square next to the colored pegs.

  When they got to the end, Wendy still couldn’t figure out the pegs, because no matter how she looked at the board, it just didn’t work out. When Carson flipped over the plastic dugout, Wendy pointed to a row of hints and exclaimed, “You cheated!”

  “Not on purpose,” Carson said, rubbing his chin with an abashed smile.

  Sure enough, he’d given incorrect hints in two of the rows.

  “You should have to cook dinner automatically after that game,” Wendy teased.

  Carson scribbled his name on one side of a paper and Wendy’s name on the other. He said, “Not if I win the next two. But I’ll give you that game.”

  “You can’t give me something I took,” Wendy said. She primly sipped her tea, but her expression was one of fierce competition.

  That made Carson belly laugh. He said, “The claws come out. I knew you would be fun to play games with.”

  Three hours in, Carson and Wendy were laughing so hard they were crying. Wendy felt like she’d known Carson all her life. They were comfortable with each other.

  They were tied on the sixth game, and it was way past dinner time. Carson leaned back, “We should count this as the third date.”

  Wendy didn’t need more time. She didn’t need to think. She said, “Screw the rules.”

  Leaning over the table, Wendy kissed Carson, a kiss full of depth and passion. When she finally came up for air, she said huskily, “I want you now.”

  Carson narrowed his eyes, “This isn’t a trick to make me lose and cook you dinner, is it?”

  Wendy about choked on her response she was laughing so hard. She didn’t even know what to say to that. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she said, “Of course not. You’re already two games behind. There’s no way you could catch up.”

  If not for his broken arm, Carson would have swept Wendy off her feet and carried her to the bedroom. Instead, he led her to the bedroom, his fingers lightly caressing hers. Carson invited Wendy into his bed.

  He was a smooth lover, slow and thorough. He kissed Wendy until she couldn’t remember her name. He focused completely on her until she reached for his t-shirt. He couldn’t throw off his clothes as easily with the cast, but with Wendy’s help, they both managed nakedness.

  Wendy urged him on, his caresses satisfying her need. They moved together in a dance as if they’d been moving together all their lives. Wendy’s loneliness, her grief, her turmoil, all of it diminished under Carson’s gentle touch.

  Carson’s achingly slow touches urged Wendy on. She didn’t know what to ask. She didn’t even know what she wanted. He asked permission before he touched her. Wendy gave it without reservation. She thought she would feel uncomfortable, maybe even anxious. Instead she felt happy. When he finally reached for her, it was as if Carson was awakening Wendy, as if she had been sleeping for months and only now had become aware.

  “What do you want?” Carson asked. It wasn’t a rude question. He asked with a deep huskiness that offered himself.

  It was an invitation Wendy would not refuse. She knew where he needed to be and led him there, showing Carson where to touch her, how to touch her. He reveled in the adventure, and she climaxed. They kissed, tasting the citrus from orange slices they’d eaten earlier. Carson teased her until she begged him to finish it.

  They were wild and intense moments, crashing one on top of another until Wendy didn’t think she could wait any longer. Finally Carson slid in, rocking his hips until he released.

  Wendy couldn’t help the tears that slid down her cheeks. She wasn’t sad, not this time, just overwhelmed. It was too soon to fall in love, but she loved Carson with her soul. That man had given her a reason to move forward, had given her hope. He knew how to talk to her, how to touch her. He was everything she needed.

  She didn’t want him to know she was crying. While he cleaned up, she quickly wiped her face. Wendy spoke quietly in the dark. She said, “Thank you.”

  Carson said, “I’m falling in love with you.”

  They were the right words for her. When they were back in bed, Carson took Wendy into his arms. This time he was her protector, her shield. The way he trailed his fingers along her skin, Wendy felt like someone precious, someone cared for.

  The day had been perfect. After John Wendy hadn’t known it was possible to have another perfect day. She’d never planned on it, but here it was. When Wendy slept, it was with a smile on her face.

  Chapter 13

  CARSON PARKED ACROSS the street from Wendy’s house feeling like a stalker and a fool. Not that he would have thought the same of Wendy whose dream had kept Wendy out of this house and sent her into his arms. He hadn’t slept and in his feverish wakefulness he was worried that he might disturb Wendy. So he had written a note and left. The note was pleasantly vague. The town shut down its shops at night. No twenty-four hour mini-mart in Wilkerson. So he didn’t have an excuse to be out, other than a spate of restless energy that needed to be burned off.

  It was entirely possible that Wendy’s subconscious had picked Grady Road out of recent memory, perhaps even likely. But why would a random dream take her out of her home, and why would she have to take her valuables? Why would anyone go after Wendy? McFarland’s right hand man got away. That didn’t mean Wendy was an automatic target

  Carson felt something about that dream stirring, and he wanted to stop whatever was going to happen. Carson wouldn’t risk Wendy....so he watched alone.

  It was close to three in the morning. Carson yawned wondering what he was thinking driving out like this. The plan was to stay a half-hour. He didn’t expect anything to happen, but he was at odds with having Wendy in his bed, peacefully sleeping.

  She had gotten to him in ways he never thought a woman could. He was a lone wolf, self-sufficient and proud. He didn’t need a wife, didn’t need a family. He had just told his buddy’s widow that he was falling in love with her. He
had no idea what he was supposed to do next.

  The rap on the window startled Carson bad enough that he jumped. Damn. He wasn’t the type to let anyone sneak up on him. Wendy had really messed up his head, or he’d messed up his own. Normally he’d have been out of the door before the person had even approached.

  A face loomed in his window. It certainly was not an attacker from New York’s cabal of military might. Carson rolled down the window, only to hear an earful of angry rant.

  Temper was in fine form, her hair pulled back into a pony tail with her hand on her hip snarling at Carson like she was a cougar. “What the hell are you doing stalking Wendy?”

  Temper was spitting mad and looked like she’d drag Carson out of the car.

  He was grateful that Wendy had such a close friend in Temper even if it meant getting the crap scared out of him at three in the morning. He said, “Wendy’s at my place. I couldn’t sleep and was checking on her house.” It seemed rude to admit that he’d deflowered Wendy in a tempest and fell sleep only to wake up with the room too hot and a woman by his side who was too lovely and too close. Getting used to sharing his room was hard.

  Temper said, “Unlock your door. I’m coming in.”

  Carson sighed. He did so inaudibly so that Temper wouldn’t hear his dismay. She slid into the passenger side of the car.

  After Temper had shut the door, Carson asked, “So what are you doing here?”

  “Wendy told me about her dream. I’m watching the house, too.” Temper yawned and stretched like a cat. For Temper, this was at the end of her shift at the bar.

  “Her last dream had accurate information. It might not be safe,” Carson said. One thing he didn’t need was someone running to Wendy gossiping every time he scouted in Wilkerson.

  “Which was why I kept a low profile, unlike some people I know. You totally would have been murdered if the bad guys were around.” Temper pushed open the door and got out, leaning down so that she had blocked the light from the street lamp.

  The neighbor who died because she looked like Wendy. It wouldn’t do for any of them to forget that. It was embarrassing. Carson was the professional, and even if undercover work wasn’t his thing, he wasn’t thinking straight if Temper could call him out.

  Carson said, “I suppose you’re not wrong. In my defense, this hasn’t been my best week.”

  “Tell Wendy what you’re doing. She’ll probably give you a key, but for god sakes be smart about this. If you’re going to lie in wait, do it in a more secure place. Don’t forget Wendy’s neighbor.”

  And then Temper was gone.

  Carson had remembered Wendy’s neighbor. It was hard to forget. In a small town, he was conspicuous. How could he be anything else? Before Temper could get any ideas, Carson waved, started the car, and drove off.

  Now he’d have to tell Wendy where he’d gone. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too upset.

  WHEN WENDY OPENED HER eyes, her first sense was confusion. It took time before reality set in. Carson’s house, right. She reached over, the way she would have when John was alive. There was no one in the bed with her. Although the bed retained a pocket of warmth where Wendy had lain, Carson’s side was cold.

  Sliding on her slippers, Wendy padded downstairs to the living room, the only place with a light shining. She expected to find Carson sitting in the arm chair reading or on his computer in the den. The door to his office was open, but the lights were dark, and the single lamp in the living room illuminated an empty space. The house felt empty.

  Wendy turned on the kitchen light and put on a tea kettle. It was far too early to be awake. The sky was still dark without the faintest hint of morning on the horizon. At least she’d thought to pack some books.

  While the water heated, Wendy ran back up the stairs to the guest room where her suitcases had been placed. She carefully picked through each of her books, deciding finally on a new author, On the Way to Heaven by Tina Wainscott. Taking her tea and a fuzzy blanket to the couch, Wendy set up a pile of pillows and the perfect nest of blankets and then fell to reading.

  The book enthralled her, the opening a hint of mystery when the main character, Chris Copestakes, plunges off a bridge to her doom only to wake up in another woman’s body. Wendy was hooked from page one.

  She barely heard Carson come in.

  If he was at all out of sorts for being busted for coming in at all hours of the night, he didn’t act it. Wendy for her part was okay with his night-time venture. He’d left a short note on the kitchen counter. That was all she needed. At times in her life she had needed to drive around and clear her head, sometimes in the middle of the night. At least twice, she’d driven sixty miles into the middle of nowhere while her neighbors slept just to turn around and come back to an empty house and a lonely bed.

  “You look comfortable,” Carson smiled.

  Wendy looked up from the page and said, “Very. The water’s still hot if you’d like to make hot chocolate or tea.”

  “Hot chocolate sounds good.” Carson made a beeline for the kitchen. After pouring the water, he surreptitiously peeked through the doorway at Wendy who was engrossed in her book. He didn’t know whether to be insulted or relieved that she hadn’t even seemed to notice his late night escapades, not that anything he had done was noteworthy, but still, there was a part of him that wanted Wendy to acknowledge that he had been gone.

  Dropping a pair of giant marshmallows into his cocoa, Carson carried it to the sofa. Wendy had just turned a page and didn’t even look up. Was she giving him the silent treatment? He didn’t have enough of a history of long-term relationships with women to know.

  Carson settled into the arm chair. He counted to sixty before clearing his throat.

  Wendy held her hand at the page and met his gaze, a smile warming her face when she raised her eyebrows.

  “Were you wondering where I went? I meant to get back before you woke.” Carson planned on throwing an apology in there first, but it didn’t work out that way in speech.

  “It’s fine.” Wendy said it like she meant it, but then turned back to her book.

  Carson hesitated. He asked, “Is it really fine or is that woman-speak for being really pissed and not telling me?”

  Wendy tucked a bookmark between the pages, “Carson, I’ve always been an independent person. If you just disappear, of course I’m going to worry, but you left a note, so it really is fine. I expect some time if I leave a note for you that you’ll also be grown up about it.”

  Carson somehow thought that because he hadn’t gotten a lecture on going out in the middle of the night, that scoping out Wendy’s house wouldn’t be an issue either. He said, “I was camped out in front of your house for an hour. Nothing happened.”

  Her fingernail tapping the page, Wendy asked, “What’s the point of me being in this house if you’re going to go to mine? You can be killed just as easily as I can.”

  “You don’t have to lecture me. I already got an earful. Temper was also watching your house and she caught me there and already told me off. She said I should ask for a key so that I could at least surprise the bad guys because I was too obvious sitting in my car across the street.”

  There weren’t very many people to whom Wendy would give a key. In record time Carson made the very short list of people she trusted. Wendy said, “I will give you a key. Just promise me you won’t get killed in my house. That dream was a warning, and it was sent to both of us. John was very clear that you should steer clear of the house, too.”

  “For how long? I’ll only have the rental for another two weeks. If trouble is coming, I want to catch whoever causes it,” Carson said. He sipped his hot chocolate. After years of habit, he was expecting coffee. When the hot chocolate hit his mouth, he grimaced.

  Carson made a good point. Wendy couldn’t very well stay out of her house forever. She needed to think about her next move. The past couple of weeks, she had reacted like a spoiled teenager, doing what she felt like without any regard to the conse
quences. She needed to call Shelly and apologize.

  Wendy could easily have lost her job if Shelly hadn’t been so understanding. It was unfair what she had done. She would have to call and make it right. Wendy said, “I’m going back to work on Wednesday. Let’s plan on living here until your month is out, then we’ll both move back to my house and hope for the best. I’ll set you up in the guest room...”

  Carson liked that plan. He’d have to find a job, hopefully one that wasn’t as mind-numbing as the job Wendy described. He would have a roof over his head and the prettiest woman in the world in his bed, if only she’d have him more than the once. He said, “Deal. I’ve missed out on a good night’s sleep. I’m going to head up. Will you be okay?”

  “I’m at a good part. I’ll keep reading,” Wendy said. She read late into the morning while Carson slept.

  As much as she loved a life of leisure, it didn’t pay the bills. Wendy finally picked up the phone and called Shelly.

  “Hey, Shel, you were right. Chasing after shadows didn’t pan out. I’d love to have my job back if it’s still available,” Wendy said, opening with the conversation she and Shelly had shared just before she left without adequate notice for an extended vacation. Shelly had told her the job would be left open until she found a new cashier who was trained. Wendy thought Shelly was trying to work around her absence.

  Shelly was completely silent. She sighed one of those heavy pregnant sighs, and Wendy knew before she heard a word what Shelly would say. Shelly said, “We hired a girl that just graduated from high school. She picked it up real fast. I don’t have the heart to fire her. I’m sorry Wendy. You were gone two weeks and you know what a hardship it is to man the store without relief.”

  Wendy felt as if the earth had dropped out from under her. She never expected Shelly to hire another employee with Wendy’s ability so quickly. She forced a chuckle she didn’t feel and said, “That’s okay. It sounds like you have the right girl for the job.”